Eulalia had burst out of her chair cursing and thrashing.
“Not a-fucking-gain, you stupid, crazy, dirty bitch! Me just want a bit of peace!” she roared, flinging one of her sticks at the dancer, who had stopped in her tracks. The stick missed Edie by a mile, but she let out an anguished yowl as tears began to course down her cheeks and urine down her legs and into her slippers. Eulalia had struggled to her feet and was pointing with one of her claws.
“Now she piss herself! Piss her pants. Piss the floor,” she cackled furiously through spittle flecked lips. Eunice tried to move Bomber on, but he was frozen to the spot. Some of the other residents had begun shouting or crying, and others stared into the distance, oblivious. Or pretending to be. It took two members of staff to restrain Eulalia as Sylvia led poor Edie away. She was trembling and sniveling and dripping piss from the hem of her nightgown as she shuffled out miserably, clinging to Sylvia’s arm and wondering where on earth the ballroom had gone.
Back in the safety of Bomber’s room, Eunice made him a cup of tea. As she drank her own, she took in the new additions to Bomber’s growing collection of swag. He had begun stealing things; random items that he didn’t need. A vase, a tea cozy, cutlery, rolls of plastic bin bags, umbrellas. He never stole from the rooms of other residents, just from the communal areas. It was a symptom of his disease apparently. Petty theft. But he was losing things too. Thick and fast now he was losing words like a tree loses leaves in the autumn. A bed might be “a soft sleep square” and a pencil “a stick with gray middle writing coming out.” Instead of words, he spoke in clues, or more often now, not at all. Eunice suggested that they watch a film. It was all that was left of them now. Eunice and Bomber, who for so long had been colleagues and best friends. Bomber’s occasional boyfriends had come and gone, but Eunice was his constant. They were husband and wife without sex or certificate and these were the last paltry scraps of their once rich relationship; walking and watching films.
Bomber chose the film. One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.
“Are you sure?” Eunice asked. She had been hoping for something a little more jolly, for her own sake and for his, after what they had just witnessed. Bomber was adamant. As they watched the patients at the state mental hospital walking in the chain-link-fenced exercise yard, Bomber pointed at the screen and winked at her.
“That’s us,” he said.
Eunice looked into his eyes and was shocked to see the clarity reflected back at her. This was the Bomber of old speaking; sharp, funny, bright, and back for a rare visit. But for how long? Even the briefest visit was precious, but heartbreaking. Heartbreaking because he must know that he would have to go back. And to what?
It was a film that they had watched many times before, but this time it was very different.
As the Chief placed the pillow over Mac’s pitifully vacant face and tenderly suffocated him, Bomber gripped Eunice’s hand and spoke his final three words.
“Get. Me. Out.”
He was calling in her promise. Eunice stared at the screen and held on tight to Bomber’s hand as the giant Chief wrenched the marble water cooler from the tub room floor, hurled it through the massive windows, and then loped off toward the breaking dawn and freedom. As the credits rolled, Eunice couldn’t move. Bomber took her other hand in his. His eyes were full of tears, but he was smiling as he nodded and mouthed silently at her:
“Please.”
Before Eunice could say anything, one of the nurses burst in without knocking.
“Time for your medication.” She bustled, rattling the keys to the medicine cabinet on the wall. She unlocked it and was just reaching for the tablets when there was a terrified scream from the corridor outside followed by Eulalia’s unmistakable cackle.
“That damn woman!” cursed the nurse, rushing to the door to investigate and leaving the cabinet unlocked.
It was time for Eunice to go. She must leave, but until she did she still had Bomber, and so she couldn’t bear to go. But every minute was just a marker between now and then, not time to be cherished. Because the decision had been made. Eunice knew that there would only be one chance; one moment when all the love she had ever felt for this man would crystallize into the inconceivable strength that she would need. It was time. The imprint of the key was embedded into the flesh of her palm where she had gripped it so tightly. Eunice unlocked the windows and opened them, leaving them just ajar. She wanted so desperately to hug him one last time; to hold his warmth and feel him breathing against her. But she knew that if she did, her strength would desert her, so instead she placed the key in his hand and kissed his cheek.
“I’m not going without you, Bomber,” she whispered. “I wouldn’t leave you this way. You’re coming with me. Let’s go.”
And then she left.
CHAPTER 45
ELDERLY MALE IN DEATH FALL AT CARE HOME